Jessica
by Renae319
Summary: Sara's niece is in trouble. First she's lost in a strange city, and now a stalker wants to kill her! Sara and Grissom must help her before it's too late! Rating upped to T for some language and content...
1. Chapter 1

The fresh October night had begun seemingly normal. The bustle of day shift leaving and night shift coming in filled the glass walled lab as a bearded, silver haired man walked out of an office.

Gil Grissom had just finished not reading his memos and avoiding other supervisory details. He had a fairly normal stack of half sheet assignments in his hand: a couple B&E's, a body from Desert Palms (suspicious circumstances), and a brutal beating on the Strip. He strode down the hall nonchalantly, ready for another night's work. He entered the break room and glanced around.

Catherine was sitting in a chair filing her nails in kaki pants and green t-shirt. Sara was sitting on the couch opening a manila envelope, her outfit anticipating a colder night. Nick and Warrick were chatting by the door; Warrick unconsciously twisting his new gold band, unused to the feeling. Greg was doing some outrageous flirting with Sofia, who just shook her head smiled, spilling a drop of coffee on her navy suit. Grissom's eyes flitted back over to Sara, now unfolding a letterl a thought crossed his mind but he quickly let it drop.

He glanced down at his hands realizing that he was here to do a job. He handed Nick and Warrick the beating. Catherine was solo on a B&E, and Greg had his own as well. He was just about hand Sara the Desert Palms case when as loud gasp of shock was heard.

All eyes turned to Sara, who was gasping short breaths of air, her eyes welling up, obviously disturbed by something. She looked up from the letter, now aware of the alarmed stares of the others.

"Excuse me," she barely managed out as she fled from the break room and into the ladies room.

"Should I follow her?" Catherine asked, sounding unsure if she really wanted to.

Grissom replied, "No, go to work, and I'll—uh, wait for her, and then go to autopsy," Catherine gave him a quizzical look, but left for her crime scene.

"See ya later, Griss," Nick said as he grabbed his jacket and headed out with Warrick.

Grissom headed into his office to review the case folder before the autopsy.

The body belonged to a Shawn Hanes: 26 year old Caucasian male. Went into the ER that morning for stomach pains, entered the morgue at five o'clock.

Grissom had just started reading his health record when a knock came upon his door. He looked up as Sara solemnly stepped in and shut his door. He noticed she was shaking violently and her dark brown eyes bloodshot from crying. He jumped from behind his desk, gently pulled on her upper arm, and sat her down in one of his cold metal chairs, taking the one opposite from her.

"What's—"

"I need some time off." She blurted out. _Shit, she thought. So much for composure._ Her body began racking again with sobs; she resisted the all too human urge to curl up into a ball. "I need—about two—three weeks—" more sobs.

Grissom began to get a little frightened. The last time he'd seen her in hysterics was after she'd been suspended, and that was just sobbing, nothing like this. He slid his hand from her upper arm up across her shoulders and neck, his hand cupping her face and laced in her hair. He took her other hand.

"What on earth is the matter?"

Sara stopped sobbing, sniffed and looked up at him. She was a wreck. The hand in her hair reached back and tucked the hair wet from crying behind her ears and rested on her shoulder. A look of deep concern flooded the eyes of Gil Grissom as he stared as her. _Get a hold of yourself, Sidle!_ she said to herself.

She unclasped his hand, sniffed some more, and wiped the salty water from her face. The shaking was eased a bit as she gained a sense of composure.

"You, um know I have a brother, right?" Sara tentatively asked him.

"Yes," he answered.

"Well, um, we've been, uh, estranged, I guess, for the past thirteen years." _God, has it already been so long?_

"Really," Grissom stated, wondering what this estrangement had to do with her state.

"Um, yeah. His wife never really liked me at all, hated me in fact," She added with a quick smile, slight chuckle, somehow reminded the a similar situation with Ecklie.

"One Christmas or Thanksgiving, we got into a fairly heated argument (which she started, by the way). I left early. The fight was over something trivial, but it said a lot about our relationship. A few weeks later, I received a note from my brother. His wife had issued him an ultimatum: basically he had to decide between a person he sees everyday and one he sees less than three times a year."

"That's awful," Grissom interjected.

"Naw," Sara replied. "I wrote him back saying I understood and our relationship ended on a good note.

Grissom raised an eyebrow but let her continue.

"About 10 years back, I received a big fat envelope of legal documents and a note from him asking if I would take care of his two kids should something happen to him. I accepted, signed the documents and sent them back. That's the last I had heard from him…until today" She handed Grissom a letter and about ten pictures, her hands were shaking again.

Grissom's eyes widened at the first picture, even more so at the second. After he flipped through them all he picked up the letter. In scrawled, frantic writing was a request:

_Dear Sara,_

_I know we haven't been in much contact these past few years but I need you to tell you some things. There is a gun to my head, my wife's, and little Brandon's head (he's six now). We are hostages in our own house. Jessica never came home last night. She's the one these monsters want. I don't think we are going to make it out alive. I just wanted to let you know that I'm sorry and my wife is sorry for the rifts between us. I know and trust that you can take good care of Jessica. Please find her! _

_I also—_

The note cut off there and Grissom noticed some spatter. In a different hand, calm and bold, near the bottom was written:

**It's too late for them. But I ****will**** find her. And I ****will**** kill her. It's only a matter of time.**

Grissom looked back at the pictures. A man was bound at the feet and gagged. He did indeed have a gun to his head and was writing a letter. In the background a woman was bound and gagged next to a very scared looking little boy. The other pictures only showed dead bodies, blood spatter everywhere in the once white living room.

"Sara, I'm so sorry," he put his hand again on hers. She started crying again, quietly this time. After a bit he asked, "Who's Jessica?"

"My fifteen-year-old niece—sniff. I need to go. I need to notify their police and find her."

"Where do they live?"

"In Omaha."

"Nebraska?" Grissom asked.

"Yeah," She replied. "But I have to go. I'm going to leave now if that's all right." She looked up at him for confirmation

"Sure," He said. "But I don't think you should go alone. You aren't very stable right now. Do you have any other family?" She shook her head no. After a moment of considering: "I'll go if you want."

"Okay." She whispered. They stood up to leave.

They left together in Grissom's car. He called Catherine letting her know that she was in charge for the next few nights and called Nick to hand off the Hanes case. They stopped briefly at Sara's apartment so gather the essentials; clothes, tooth brush, etc. Grissom took longer at his place, since he needed to feed all of his little roommates.

They finally made it to the airport around eleven p.m. Grissom bought both tickets to speed up the process, Sara promising to pay the way back. The flight left at 12:30 am. After a quiet wait and a cup of coffee, they boarded and forever left their familiar Vegas.

He had come off a double shift the night before. He couldn't remember the last time he had slept. Sleep naturally came in the dark, quiet airplane. But there was something different. His right arm felt warmer, there seemed to be a light weight pressing on it. As he turned to see what was what, the side of his jaw gently touched the top of a woman's head. Sara was sleeping softly on his shoulder.

The right thing for a boss to do was lightly push that person off of him/her. But Grissom thought for minute; he wasn't here as her boss, he was with her as a friend. At that thought, he put his head back again, slightly resting on the one next to him and dozed off again.

That day's emotional rollercoaster had taken its toll. She hadn't slept that day either. Sleep naturally came in the dark, quiet airplane. There was a slight jar of turbulence that pushed her out of a dream state of mind. Her left side was warm as she leaned in the direction. She could smell Grissom's scent, and internally she panicked. What if he woke up and found me like this!! she thought.

He turned his head and his jaw lightly touched her head; she heard a slight intake of breath. After a moment his head dropped back down, only this time resting on hers. Sara took this as an okay, and fell back asleep.


	2. Chapter 2: The Crime Scene

Warning: This does involve the death of a child, just to warn you guys...If you skip it, just remember to get really angry and horrified at the killer because that's what it's there for...

* * *

As soon as they landed in the sparse city of Omaha, the pair directed a cab to the Police Station.

A secretary at the station showed them into an older detective's office where Sara told her story.

"Oh, my god." The aged detective murmured. He had begun flipping through the pictures in the small dim office. When he finished, he picked up the blood spattered letter and quietly read through it. As he picked up the pictures again, Sara spoke up;

"Sir, I really need your help. My fifteen- year-old niece is missing and possibly dead. Can't you do something right now?"

The detective looked at her with goggled eyes, bewildered that someone was trying to speed up his process. Sara never broke contact.

"Judy!" He called in his secretary, finally breaking the contact once Judy came in. He carefully put the documents back in the manila envelope and handed them to the secretary. "Get these to the forensic office." Back to Grissom and Sara, "Who's touched these?"

"I have, sir," said Grissom, "Sara too. We assume the killers have as well but—

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" he interjected "Who are you to assume anything? What do you think you are? Experts?"

Sara and Grissom exchanged small smiles. "We're both seasoned CSI's out of Las Vegas. I suppose you could consider us 'experts'," Sara stated with a coy but sober smile.

"Right…" The detective looked a tad perplexed and embarrassed for a moment then stood up. "Lets to it then, shall we?"

"Thank you very much," now genuinely sincere, Sara shook his hand.

It was a cold a drizzly morning in Omaha as the squad car sped along the shiny empty streets, the silent flashers on. The car lurched to a halt in a quaint neighborhood in front of a well kept home. A few days worth of newspapers hung out of the mailbox, the plastic dripping with the rain. As the detective, Sara and Grissom got out, three more cars followed, the officers running to the door, guns drawn.

Boom-boom-boom! "Open up, Police!" Nothing. Boom-boom-boom! "Open up, Police! Last Warning!" Crash! The wood splintered and the decorated glass shattered as an officer kicked the door open. Shouts of "Clear! Clear!" were heard as the officers contaminated the crime scene. Grissom and Sara snapped on gloves as they made their way to the house. Grissom glanced over at Sara to see her expression as they entered the house; he could detect nothing except sheer determination.

"All clear for you sir," A young cop said to the detective as the trio entered. A worried look crossed the young man's face. "You aren't going to like what you see in there."

"It's alright," replied Grissom. "We already know."

Sara, edging along the room, made her way to the living room. A horrifying scene greeted her. The pictures she received came to life as she studied the spatter on the walls. She could not yet let her eyes fall to the floor where she knew her big brother and his family's bodies to be. As she forced back tears of anger, the smell of the two-day-old bodies and blood, a familiar yet strange scent, wrapped around her nose. Upon opening her eyes, she was transfixed by her little nephew.

His hands had been cut free and were sprawled out in defeat at his sides. The little boy was face down in the once white carpet, an execution style wound revealed. It was too much. She walked out room firmly and up to the young officer.

"Excuse me," she asked him, ignoring her cracking voice, "Did you clear the whole house?"

"Yes." He answered, unsure of this interrogating woman.

"Were the only bodies those in the living room?"

"Yes," he repeated, more confidently. "I just checked with the station, the daughter is missing. Hasn't shown up at school yet this week."

"Have they checked in with her friends, extended family, anywhere else?" She asked.

"Well, there're a few officers talking with the kids at school right now. The wife didn't have any family left. The husband, well, all they have come up with so far is a sister out in Las Vegas, but she isn't answering her phone."

"Because she's here. Right in front of you," Sara said neutrally.

"Oh," the young man said. "I'll, uh, let them know."

"Great." And she strode off. "Just great." She began to get frustrated. Sara was tired and the window for finding Jessica alive was quickly closing.

As she began walking back towards the house, Grissom met her at the walk.

"Well," he started. "They've called in their CSI's and want us to leave and grab a room somewhere." He paused. "You look like you could use some sleep."

She nodded in agreement and was silent the whole ride back downtown. They were dropped off at a small hotel and got a room with a balcony. They dragged their small bags up the stairs to the third floor. For thriftiness, they decided to share a room with two beds. As soon as they reached the room, Sara grabbed her things and headed to the shower.

Grissom crashed onto a bed and fell asleep, uneasy sleep.

_What time is it? _His head groggy and still full of sleep, Grissom sat up in an unfamiliar room. _And where the hell am I?_ It suddenly all came back to him. The letter, the plane, the bodies… Sara. Where was she?

The room was still dark. He reached over and flipped the light switch on. A dull yellow light didn't quite reach the corners of the room. _There's her bag _he thought_ she went in to shower about what an hour ago?_ He glanced over at the side clock. They had gotten into the room about 10 am. It was now 4:30 pm. _Shit!_ He changed quickly when a slit of afternoon sun caught his eye.

He pulled back the curtains, looked out, and set them back down. Grissom silently opened the balcony door. Sara was leaning on the railing, deep in thought, a cigarette in hand.

"I thought you quit." Grissom said quietly as he joined her on the railing. She wasn't startled; she didn't even look over at him.

"I did, but I still end up smoking a couple packs a year," she answered, "Mainly during the tough cases." She turned toward him. "How do you deal?"

"Well," He started, "I have this friend named Jack Daniels…" He was able to coax a small chuckle out of her, but it quickly turned into shaking sobs. He reached out and put an arm around her, offering words of comfort.

"I just…I…" Sara said in between sobs, "I just can't get him out of my mind, my little nephew, _mine_, laying there like that." More sobs. "I mean—who could do that to a _child_? He was six! And they're going to do it again!"

"No they won't, Sara," Grissom reassured her, "They police here are doing the best they can to find her—

"With what? Nobody is doing anything! I've been calling all day for updates but no one can tell me anything! Remember the Johnson kidnapping case about year ago? They found her in park five months later. Dead." She was giving Grissom a hard look. "Is that what's going to happen to Jessica?"

"All cases turn out differently, Sara, we just have to hope."

"Huh, yeah, sure. You know as well as I how the majority of missing persons cases turn out."

Grissom couldn't disagree with that. They stood on the balcony, his arm still holding her tightly, for a time in silence.

He finally spoke up. "Have you gotten any sleep since the plane?"

"No," simply stated, staring across the road.

"Why don't you go catch a few winks? We'll go grab something to eat and meet up again with the police again. In_ person_."

"I already tried sleeping. Every time I close my eyes all I see is that room, and little Brandon…"She let her head hang, tears freely streaming.

"Come, you need sleep," Grissom guided her over to her bed and she obediently lay down. Grissom walked around to the other side of the bed and sat next to her. Sara scooted across the bed and drew herself close to him. Fresh tears formed on her face as he put an arm around her. He continued stroking her hair until she had cried herself to sleep.

Grissom continued to watch her. All the anxieties of that day seemed to melt from her beautiful face.

Across the room a cell phone rang. Grissom gave Sara's hair one last sweep back behind her ears, a hesitated kiss on the temple, and got up to answer it. As he moved away, Sara curled up in a ball, a calm, peaceful visage.

"Grissom."

Heavy breathing. Wind beating on the mouth piece.

"Hello?"

Wind. Breath.

"Who is this? Hello?"

Dead.

Grissom looked down and realized he was holding Sara's phone.

* * *

Author Note: I'm really having a tough time with a title...Any help?? 


	3. Chapter 3: The Call

_What time is it? _His head groggy and still full of sleep, Grissom sat up in an unfamiliar room. _And where the hell am I?_ It suddenly all came back to him. The letter, the plane, the bodies… Sara. Where was she?

The room was still dark. He reached over and flipped the light switch on. The dull yellow light didn't quite reach the corners of the room. _There's her bag _he thought_ she went in to shower about, what, an hour ago?_ He glanced over at the side clock. They had gotten into the room about 10 am. It was now 4:30 pm. _Shit!_ He changed quickly when a slit of afternoon sun caught his eye.

He pulled back the curtains, looked out, and set them back down. Grissom silently opened the balcony door. Sara was leaning on the railing, deep in thought, a cigarette in hand.

"I thought you quit." Grissom said quietly as he joined her on the railing. She wasn't startled; she didn't even look over at him.

"I did, but I still end up smoking a couple packs a year," she answered, "Mainly during the tough cases." She turned toward him. "How do you deal?"

"Well," He started, "I have this friend named Jack Daniels…" He was able to coax a small chuckle out of her, but it quickly turned into shaking sobs. He reached out and put an arm around her, offering words of comfort.

"I just…I…" Sara said in between sobs, "I just can't get him out of my mind; my little nephew, _mine_, laying there like that." More sobs. "I mean—who could do that to a _child_? He was six! And they're going to do it again!"

"No they won't, Sara," Grissom reassured her, "They police here are doing the best they can to find her—

"With what? Nobody is doing anything! I've been calling all day for updates but no one can tell me anything! Remember the Johnson kidnapping case about year ago? They found her in park five months later. Dead." She was giving Grissom a hard look. "Is that what's going to happen to Jessica?"

"All cases turn out differently, Sara, we just have to hope."

"Huh, yeah, sure. You know as well as I how the majority of missing persons cases turn out."

Grissom couldn't disagree with that. They stood on the balcony, his arm still holding her tightly, for a time in silence.

He finally spoke up. "Have you gotten any sleep since the plane?"

"No," simply stated, staring across the road.

"Why don't you go catch a few winks? We'll go grab something to eat and meet up again with the police again. In_ person_."

"I already tried sleeping. Every time I close my eyes all I see is that room, and little Brandon…"She let her head hang, tears freely streaming.

"Come, you need sleep," Grissom guided her over to her bed and she obediently lay down. Grissom walked around to the other side of the bed and sat next to her. Sara scooted across the bed and drew herself close to him. Fresh tears formed on her face as he put an arm around her. He continued stroking her hair until she had cried herself to sleep.

Grissom continued to watch her. As she slipped from the troubled reality into the bliss of dreams, all the anxieties of that day seemed to melt from her beautiful face.

Across the room a cell phone rang. Grissom gave Sara's hair one last sweep back behind her ears, a hesitated kiss on the temple, and got up to answer it. As he moved away, Sara curled up in a ball with a calm, peaceful visage.

"Grissom."

Heavy breathing. Wind beating on the mouth piece.

"Hello?"

Wind. Breath.

"Who is this? Hello?"

Dead.

Grissom looked down and realized he was holding Sara's phone.


	4. Chapter 4: Another Call

She smelled Chinese food.

Sara, tired and groggy, rose up from her relined position. The cheap hotel room, even with all its lights on, was still dim. She rubbed consciousness back into her face and looked around. In the corner near the balcony door were a set of table and chairs. Two boxes of Chinese take-out sat on the table opposite a man. He turned as the mattress springs screeched as she sat up.

"Sorry, I got hungry," Grissom said with an apologetic smile. He motioned her to sit come sit with him and she obeyed. Sara reached over a grabbed the unopened box of food. Just then, she realized that it had been nearly a day since she last ate. After several large gulps of food, she asked:

"What time is it?" Grissom looked at his watch, and then remembered that it was set to Las Vegas time. He turned and glanced at the clock radio.

"6:30."

"When can we go to the police station?" she asked, her mouth full with another scoop of food.

"Whenever you're ready. I rented a car so we wouldn't have to rely on squad cars and taxis," he replied.

She set her partly eaten box of food on the table. "Let's go then."

The ride to the station was quiet. Grissom had forgotten about the strange call to Sara's phone. They parked and walked silently in to the station. Grissom unconsciously guided Sara with his hand at her lower back; but she noticed and smiled to herself despite the seriousness of their visit. But upon seeing the solemn faces of those working hard at her niece's case quickly sobered her up.

They met the detective in his office.

"Do you have any news?" Sara asked hopefully. "Good news?"

"Well," the detective started, "we talked to all her classmates. Nobody has seen or heard from her for the past 3 days. None said if she was staying with them. They're all real concerned for her though; I guess she was well liked among her peers…

"On the bad side," he continued, "we did find her car today. There weren't any signs of struggle, though. It just seemed abandoned."

"Where was it found?" Sara asked.

"Some kids from the neighborhood found it in the wooded area near the elementary school, recognized it and their parents called it in."

Sara opened her mouth to say something but the detective quickly added: "And yes, blood was the first thing we checked for: none was found." She closed her mouth.

"Is there anything else you can tell us?" Grissom asked.

"I'm sorry, sir," the detective said. "It's all I have. Young Miss Sidle seems to have dropped off the face of the earth."

At that moment Sara's phone rang.

"Sidle." Pause.

Her eyes grew wide.

"Where?" Pause.

She flipped the phone shut.

After a moment, she turned to Grissom.

"We need to go." He nodded and stood up.

"Wait," called the detective, "Who was that?"

But the pair had already been whisked out of the office, out the front door, and into the cold October night.


	5. Chapter 5: Ol' Reliable

"Where are we going?" Grissom asked.

"Glory Luthern Church," Sara responded. She was driving just over the speed limit and weaving in and out of traffic.

"Do you know where you're going?"

"I've been here enough to know where things are." Eyes ahead, determined.

After several minutes of silence, Sara jerked the compact off the interstate.

"Who called?" Grissom ventured to ask.

"I don't know. I don't even know if it was a male or female, but they said they knew where Jessica was."

"Shouldn't we have told the police? I mean, we were right there; they could have given us back up."

"I had thought to, but decided against it," she responded. The green Taurus came to a stop at a red light. Sara turned to Grissom. "The person on the phone said to come alone; they only wanted to see me."

"When has that ever ended up well?" Grissom remarked cynically, raising an eyebrow.

"I'll be fine," she stressed optimistically; traffic began to move ahead.

After a moment, "You don't know that," said Grissom quietly. Sara looked over at him.

"I may not know what's waiting for me there, but I'm carrying Ol' Reliable." She pulled back her jacket to reveal a standard police issue handgun.

Grissom's eyes widened; Sara smirked, eyes on the road.

"How did you get through airport security with that?"

"I flashed my badge."

After a moment:

"It's sad how humans find comfort and security in weapons," he remarked. Sara raised an eyebrow, but ignored him.

They pulled into a church parking lot. Sara parked into a stall and killed the engine. There were no other cars in the lot. She began to get a bit nervous. She put on the hard façade she had mastered so well and turned to Grissom.

"Call for back-up if I'm not back in 15 minutes." Before he could respond she had already slammed the door shut and walked into the night of a strange city. There was nothing left to do but wait.

* * *

Sara had walked up to what she assumed was the main entrance. She tried both doors with no luck. A sign instructed the wanderer to ring the bell if the door was locked. Sara thought a bit before deciding not to. There didn't appear to be any one to hear her ring anyway.

She walked farther along the building where there was another front entrance. She tugged hard at both doors to no avail. To the north, there was more parking, so she assumed that there must be another way in. Sara jogged down to the other side of the building under windows that must belong to the church offices. She mounted the stairs to this other door. When she pulled the handle the door gave, admitting her into the cold, dark church.

Sara looked down and saw that the lock had been taped back. She made a mental note to record it as evidence for fingerprints and such.

The woman walked into the long tiled hallway that must be bustling with life on Sundays. Banners hanging from rafters read 'Glory—Changing lives, Reflecting Christ'. Her boots echoed loudly as she strode down the long vestibule. When she reached the large, carpeted lobby area, she heard a low sound.

A slow, mournful hymn issued from the sanctuary. Sara's stomach flipped in her belly. She put a reassuring hand on her gun as she pushed open the large, wooden door, the music washing over her ears.


	6. Chapter 6: What Sara Finds

The car was starting to get cold. Grissom glanced at his watch, now adjusted to Central Time: 8:25. Sara had been gone for about seven minutes. He looked up warily at the church. There were no evident signs of life. It was dark inside and out. But if Sara hadn't been able to get in, she surely would have been back by now. Both front entrances had been locked and she had jogged down to the north entrance. She must have gotten in somehow.

Boy, he thought, Omaha sure is cold!

He leaned across the council and turned the engine over. Warm air blasted out the front vents.

8:26.

* * *

The vast sanctuary was dark and cold. The hymn began to crescendo and the tempo moved faster as Sara walked in. She drew her gun.

"Who's there?" she called.

The music never faltered. Sara looked every which way for the source of the music, but the sad tune was reverberating off the high ceiling and tiled floor. She looked every which way until she spied a grand piano to the left of the altar. She could see nothing except for part of a cranium peeking over the music stand. Sara was rooted to the spot

"Who are you?" she yelled. Sara began to move swiftly towards the instrument, the gun pointed out in front. "Where's my niece? Where's Jessica?"

She stopped and pivoted to the side of the grand, gun aimed at the player. Sara slowly lowered her gun as a pair of chocolate brown eyes turned to her.

* * *

8:35

Grissom picked up his cell phone to call for back-up but something stopped him. For reasons unknown to him, he killed the engine and braved the cold night.

Quickly he found the entrance that Sara had used. It was not much warmer inside than out. The stillness of the church did not faze him in the least. After a glance at the banners, he quickly walked to the sanctuary doors. As he pulled open the large doors, a strange sight met him.

Sara was slowly lowering the drawn weapon, eyes wide; with fear or shock, he wasn't sure.

The music stopped mid measure.

"Aunt Sara?" a small quiet voice asked which was lost to Grissom with his bad hearing and the large space.

"Jessica?" Sara whispered, tears now in her eyes. Her gun clanked to the floor and they embraced, finally finding each other; both now able to grieve.

Grissom backed out of the sanctuary unnoticed, not wanting to disturb the moment. He went back to the car, climbed into the driver's seat, and proceeded to warm up the car.


	7. Chapter 7: Jessica

I had gone to the movies that night with my friends. Have fun! they called to me. Brandon was mad: I had promised to build a fort with him that night.

We went to see some chick flick; I don't even remember what it was. After that we all (my friends and I, I mean) we all went out for coffee. Starbucks. The one on Dodge Street. That's where we went.

I was out late. Past curfew.

Afterwards we had all gone to Mary's house to hang out more. I knew that I should have gone home; but Something held me back. Normally I'm a good kid; obeying rules and such. I never drive over the speed limit and I can't lie. I don't know why I didn't go home…

Anyway, I went over there and we started to watch a movie. An old musical? I think it was Singing in the Rain.

I fell asleep. I woke up at noon the next day.

I figured my parents had it in for me. I was surprised to see that they hadn't called me, or went out to look.

I pulled in the driveway. I turned the engine off. I opened the door of the car, locked it, and shut it.

I had my key out to unlock the front door.

It was already open.

The house was still.

There was a funny smell.

Not the musty moldy smell I'm used to. It has always smelled moldy. But I don't think we have mold anymore. Maybe it's a smell that sticks. This new smell sticks too.

Hello. Hello. I'm sorry. I won't do it again.

Where are you guys? Mom, Dad, Brandon? Hello. Hello.

Blood, everywhere. Blood. Blood.

He was face down on the floor. She was leaning against the sofa. He was slumped over the table.

Blood. Everywhere. Blood. Blood.

Mommy always kept this room pristine. I think the carpet will need to be replaced. The wall will need to be painted. Would steam get it out of upholstery? Would it erase it from my memory?

I ran.

Unlocked the car. Seatbelt, keys, turn, go. I drove, and drove. My fuel was low. I ended up in the trees. I don't know how I got there. I got out and walked. I walked a long time. It was dark.

The church was open for AA. I snuck into the basement. I hid in the storage room. I fell asleep. I was hungry. It was still dark. There were cookies in the kitchen.

I hid all day. There was pre-school that day. And the next.

Daddy told me that I had an aunt in Las Vegas. She was some sort of law enforcer. At night I made calls. I got her cell number. I called but a man picked up; but I didn't say anything. I was afraid he was…I don't know what I was afraid he was. But I didn't say anything.

I called again. A woman picked up. I knew it was her. But I didn't tell her who I was. Told her where I was.

I play the piano at night. That's when I can think. Music numbs the part of my brain that hurts. And it fills, only temporarily, that hole that's left where I used to be before the blood. She came. She took me to the police station. They put me in a small office. That's where I am now. When can I go home? Someone needs to feed the cats.

"You can't go home," the frustrated detective said. God, he thought, this girl has been rambling for the past 10 minutes! "Please; I need you to answer the questions: Why didn't you contact the police when you found your family? Why did you run away? Why didn't you go for help??"

"I don't know!" Jessica yelled, frustrated. "I was scared. It's all a blur."

"Detective," Sara interjected, "she's tired, and she's lost her family. Why wouldn't she run away? A person has the right to disappear anyway—

"Not a minor," he retorted. "_And, _It's a felony not to report a dead body! We wouldn't have known about the murders for at least another week if you hadn't come all the way up from Las Vegas—

"You know what sir," Sara yelled back angrily, "we don't need to take this! YOU have no right to get mad at her! I'm taking her back to our hotel and we'll be in—

"Oh no you don't! You can't take her, Social Services are."

"Ooh yes I can! I signed the documents the documents thirteen years ago; check your state records and I'll send you mine! Thank you! Good bye!"

Grissom heard the heated argument and jumped up as the door burst open. She had her arm tightly around the teenage girl's shoulders, with fire in her eyes. Jessica, with identical eyes as Sara's, beamed up at her aunt with admiration.

Grissom smiled to himself as the trio walked into the dark Omaha night.


	8. Chapter 8: Conversations

"It's near midnight now," Grissom commented. "We should all try and sleep. It's going to be a long few days."

Sara nodded in agreement and looked at her new-found niece.

"There's two beds," Jessica said. "Can I have my own?"

"Sure," Sara answered.

"I'll take the floor," Grissom said.

"Don't be silly," she replied. "I'll take it."

"No, you're not sleeping on the floor."

"Well you certainly aren't."

"Yes I will."

"You have seniority."

"Oh so I'm too old to sleep on the floor. Afraid I'll hurt my back?"

"That's not what I meant. You have…rank…over me"

"Yes which means I get to pick. And I pick the floor."

"No, that means you get the most comfortable spot: the bed."

"These beds? Most comfortable?"

"Well they're better than the floor."

"I don't think you got the full affect of the wonderfully lumpy mattress…"

"Hey!" Sara and Grissom turned from their polite arguing to the teen

"Why don't you two just share the damn bed so we can all get some sleep?"

"Umm… okay if you want to…uh…Griss…"

"Well, only if you…uh…are fine with that…I mean…"

"Well, I am if you are but if you're not we don't have to…"

"Oh my goodness. Do you guys have cooties or something?" With that the sassy girl pulled the sheets over her head and went to sleep.

After a moment of staring at each other:

"I'll, uh, take the right side," Sara said. She turned and went to get ready for bed in the bathroom.

She sat up. The room was dark. She turned to her right and saw the small lump in the bed next to her, relieved to finally know where she was. Despite the relief, she rubbed her face in frustration. Sara Sidle could not sleep.

"Can't sleep," a low whisper to her left said making her jump slightly.

"Sorry, did I wake you up?" she whispered.

"No, I can't sleep either," he replied.

They sat up in a comfortable silence for a while.

"Griss, I don't know how I'm going to do it."

"Do what?"

"Raise a kid. Be a good…parental figure… of some sort…"

"Why wouldn't you?"

Chuckle. "You know me. I'm an unstable work-a-holic with a bad past in family. I'm already pre-destined to become another bad parent statistic…"

"You don't seem unstable to me. You've been stable this whole time…"

"…Only because you've been here." She turned to him. "I couldn't have stayed this sane without you."

"When times get tough, we all need a support system."

They were silent for a bit.

"I hear that teens these days are reckless, irresponsible, and don't listen to anything adults say," she said.

"Well, the ones we deal with for the most part are. But not all are," Grissom responded quietly. "Were you?"

"What?"

"Were you reckless and irresponsible as a teen?"

"I was an introverted nerd and was harassed by all my foster inmates. I did what people told me to do to avoid confrontation and stayed holed up in my room as much as possible."

"Really," said Grissom surprised, "I never would have guessed."

"Yeah, I changed around in college. Nobody was ever going to boss me around again. Well, except for my bosses…"

"Well yeah that's a boss' job: bossing people around."

"Well, then Ecklie must looove his job."

They laughed quietly.

"Thank you for being here," Sara said quietly. She leaned over and wrapped her arms around Grissom in a hug which he returned.

They were both suddenly hit with fatigue and fell asleep in each others arms.

* * *

A/N: Yeah, kind of a fluffy chapter, but the plot will thicken soon... 


	9. Chapter 9: Sin City?

Sun light seared across his face. Grissom put up a hand to shield his eyes from the burning morning sunlight from his left. The curtain from the hotel room was cracked slightly. He squeezed his eyes shut and turned his face to the right. His nose was bathed in a familiar scent. Sara.

He readjusted his eyes. She was sleeping peacefully on his shoulder, his arm around her; her arm draped elegantly across his chest. Grissom felt their legs tangled together near the end of the bed. Some dark brown hair had fallen in her face. Very gently with his pinky finger he brushed those silky locks back behind her ears.

Maybe, he thought, my subconscious is trying to tell me something.

sigh "Oh, Sara," he whispered softly, "There's so much to say that I can't put in the right words."

"Hmmmm…what," she muttered half awake, her eyes fluttering back into consciousness.

Fearing he was caught, he struggled for cover up: "Uh…nothing, it's pretty late. About, uh, 10:30 actually and…" he glanced around the room and spied the worst. "Jessica's gone."

"What!"

Sara sat up quickly, instantly awake, and turned to the second bed. The coverlet was neatly folded back, sheets and blanket pulled up, and the pillows arranged nicely. No trace of the girl. She jumped up out of the bed and threw on a sweat shirt and shoes. Grissom did the same.

Clad in pajama pants they ran down to the lobby.

"Umm…excuse me sir," Sara said to the desk manager, "but have you seen a teenage girl around here; she has dark hair, dark eyes…"

"Like the one there?" he pointed.

Sara and Grissom turned to see who he was referring to. There on a sofa with a cup of coffee in her hand sat Jessica. They took off to confront her.

"Why did you leave?"

"I was awake, I was hungry. Humans naturally eat some sort of meal in the morning. I knew the free breakfast was going to close eventually."

"Well, why didn't you leave a note or wake us up or something?" Sara stammered.

A sly smile crossed Jessica's face. "You two looked too cozy there and I didn't want to disturb you."

Sara's cheeks burned red; Grissom suppressed his amused look.

"Well, what about a note?" Sara stammered. "You couldn't leave a note?"

"Did you look for one?"

The two adults looked at each other. As soon as they had seen Jessica was gone they had thrown on clothes to go look for her. No, they hadn't even thought to look for one.

Jessica rolled her eyes and heaved a big sigh. "Aunt Sara & Mr. Grissom: 7:20 am. Went to breakfast. Hotel lobby, Jessica. Set it right on top of the bed I made. Man, you guys sleep like rocks!"

"Oh, um okay," Sara said, feeling really stupid just then. She sank down onto the couch next to her niece. "Hey Grissom," she turned to ask him something. "Grissom?"

She looked around the room for him. She spied him carrying two cups of coffee back from the breakfast area and her eyes softened. "Thanks," she said up to him with a small smile as he handed her a cup. He smiled back and sat in the chair adjacent to the couch.

They sat in silence for a while, all three sipping the bitter hotel coffee.

"So," Jessica said.

"So," Sara repeated.

"What are they going to do with them?" Jessica asked quietly, to no one in particular.

"With your family, you mean?" Sara inquired. Jessica nodded. "Well," she started, scooting over and putting her arm around the girl, "They aren't going to release the b—them for burial for at least another week. Although what else they can learn from them I don't really know," the latter part directed more to Grissom. He shrugged his shoulders.

"And your house won't be cleared for quite sometime, so, I think we need to do some shopping for you. In a case like this, they won't likely release your house for at least a couple of months. Then crime scene clean up will be scrubbing away for a week," she added. "Somewhere in there, we're going to be moving you to Vegas to live with me."

"Sin City?" Jessica said with wide eyes. Both adults nodded. "A hot climate, gambling, drugs—"

"I know it doesn't seem like the ideal place for kids, especially coming from this place, but beyond the strip there are nice neighborhoods, good schools…" Grissom added.

"Which means I probably need to move," Sara said out loud to herself.

"Why?" Grissom asked.

She took another sip of her coffee. "I don't live in a nice part of town. Crime rate had doubled these past few years where I live. And they just had a huge drug bust at the neighborhood school."

"That was by you?"

She nodded. "Not two miles away."

"What's that school Lindsey goes to?" Sara asked him. "Wonder if that would work?"

"You'd have to ask Catherine."

"Hmmm, well, I'll add that to my to-do list."

"You don't have to move just for me," Jessica said quietly.

"Yeah, I do," Sara answered back. "I live in a pretty bad area of town."

"Okay…What about my cats? Where are they?"

"Um…" Sara looked to Grissom for help.

"They, uh," he stammered, "They aren't really…uh…with us anymore."

"I'm not a child. What did they do to them?"

"They were killed too."

Jessica pursed her lips and shook her head, fighting back tears. "I hope they get those bastards!"

"Me too, babe," Sara said, now hugging her, rocking back and forth, "Me too."

Grissom watched this scene between the two women_. I don't know what Sara has to worry about_, he thought; _she already seems to have good mothering skills_.

* * *

A/N: Yeah, still kind of fluffy, but I'm trying to build Sara and Jessica's relationship. Ooh, please note the title change! thank you El Gringo Loco! 


	10. Chapter 10: The School

"Can I get some things from my house?"

"I suppose we can arrange that," the detective said to Jessica. "What do you need?"

"My journals, photos, violin…some personal things and such."

"That sounds...fine, I guess, but we haven't released your clothes yet."

"That's all right, sir," Jessica replied.

Sara had taken her shopping for new clothes. Since the house and closets had been ransacked (apparently looking for her), all of Jess's clothes had been logged as evidence and were being meticulously scavenged for any sort of evidence.

"Well, if you can just write down what you want, I can get an officer to do it for you—"

"Thank-you sir, but I'd rather do it myself. I want to see the house," Jessica said to him with pleading eyes.

"Are you sure? Because victims sometimes think they're ready when they really aren't…and then things can get, erm…complicated—"

"Sir, I appreciate the concern but once I leave, I'm never coming back. I want to go to the house, grab a few things, and leave. That's it. I'm sure you understand. Plus, I don't trust other people with my instrument. I don't want anything to happen to it."

"Our officers are very particular about victims and their personal possessions—

"Please, sir," she said firmly, eyes set.

After a moment: "I'll, uh, get that arranged for you then," he replied. "I suppose your aunt will be coming too?"

"Yes, and her friend, Dr. Grissom." Grissom had corrected his title for her earlier that day. Even though he insisted she should just call him Grissom, like Sara and everyone else does, but she felt that a proper title was needed for this offending officer. She had yet to completely forgive him for the way he had treated her the other day.

"I'll let you know when we can get it arranged."

"Thank-you sir," she repeated, and left the small office.

Sara and Grissom had been intimately talking with each other outside the office. As soon as the door opened and the brown-eyed brunette emerged they quickly separated and stood up.

"So, what did he say?" Sara asked her.

"That they will let us know when they can arrange it," She answered in a matter-of-fact manner.

"So what are you thinking of taking?" Sara said as they started to leave.

"It's strange," Jessica replied after a moment of consideration; "I never thought that I would have to choose what I wanted to remember my whole life by."

"We never do," Grissom said.

They walked into the cold, fall day and headed into the near-by coffee shop. They ordered, grabbed the steaming drinks and found a cozy nook to sit in.

"When are we going to leave?" Jessica asked.

"As soon as we can, oh, which reminds me," Sara said, "I need to talk to your school. We need to get your academic records. I talked to Catherine last night about Lindsey's school: well, I'll just say that Sam Braum was footing the bill. So that's out."

"Public school is still an option," the girl suggested.

"Yeah, well we'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

* * *

Her school was big. Massive. Who could ever think that a school in Nebraska could be this large? There was only one parking space open in the front of the school for visitors. The rest were taken up by the immense student and faculty population. The trio braced themselves against the biting wind as the exited the Taurus and ran to the visitor's entrance.

The man at the security desk directed them to an office where they were greeted by a rude secretary who redirected them to the counseling office. A much nicer secretary showed them to Jessica's counselor, a tall man with a rather large nose and a firm handshake.

"So you're changing school?" the man asked with a false smile and surgery voice.

"Yes, sir," Jess said quietly nodding her head.

"Know where you're going?"

"No, sir."

"Well," he continued, "The reason I ask is because schools, and the law, generally prefer that we, the old school, send it by post to them. You know, less hassle, the chance of lost records and such eliminated…" He was very animated, swaying his head and gesturing with his hands all over the place.

"This move wasn't really planned out," Sara said, "and we," gesturing to Grissom, "feel that the sooner we get her out of town the better. But we haven't settled on a school yet."

"Where are you exactly moving to?" the councilor inquired.

"Las Vegas."

"Ah, Las Vegas…Nevada, I presume?"

"Yes," Grissom now piping in with his frustrated I'm-being-nice-to-you-but-you're-an-idiot tone.

"Ah…okay…Let me try and find your file here," he said standing up. "It'll just be a few minutes," and left the small office.

Three sat for minute in silence.

"I've never liked that guy," Jessica said.

"I can see why," Grissom replied.

The walls of the office were covered with pennants from various colleges around the United States. On a bulletin board were hanging well over a hundred key chains from even more universities.

"They sure motivate you kids to go to college," Sara stated.

"Yeah, especially in the honor's program," Jessica replied indifferently, staring at the floor in front of her, "I had mine picked out already. I was going to apply next fall."

"Where?"

"Here, at Creighton. I was going to be a Chemistry major. Now I don't know what's going to happen."

"Well, you can still come back and go there—

"I don't ever want to see this city again." She looked up at her aunt with hard eyes.

"Okay!" an unusually cheery voice rang out from behind them. Mr. Counselor waltzed back into the cramped office with a fat manila folder in hand. The scene on couch with her brother's letter flashed briefly through Sara's mind at the sight. "I just need one of you," motioning to Sara and Grissom, "To sign off here, and address here, and you can pick up a transcript on your way out."

Sara picked up the pen, Peru State, and signed the release form.

"Well, it's been real nice having you here," he stuck his large hand out to Jessica's, grasped it firmly and pumped up and down a few times. "I wish you the best of luck out in Nevada." He repeated the hand shaking actions with Sara and Grissom. "Oh, and I'm _really_ sorry to hear about your family. _Terrible_ business, just _awful_."

"Thanks," Jess muttered and scurried out of the room.

They left the office after receiving the official transcript.

It was passing period and the hallway was a circus. Heads turned and mouths became hushed as the trio tried to push their way out of the sea of teenagers and backpacks.

"Is that her?"

"Hey, that's girl who ran away."

"Didn't her family get shot or something?"

"What's her name?"

"Jenny?"

"Joy?"

"Janie?"

"I think it was Holly!"

They finally made it to the front door only to be met by another wave of students coming in from the cold. The school was so big that the outside doors were open for passing period.

As they passed the flagpole, now free of the torrent of teens, something caught Jessica's eye. She stopped for a moment, spellbound by whatever or whoever she was staring at. Grissom noticed her absence when he and Sara reached the car.

"Jessica?" he asked looking around.

He and Sara glanced around the bright day and spotted her by the flagpole facing a boy about twenty feet from her.

"Jess!" Sara shouted. She didn't turn. "Jess!"

She turned and briskly walked to the car, speeding up her pace as the wind pressed on her back.

"Who were you looking at?" Sara asked.

"No one," she said, slamming the car door and fastening her seatbelt.

"Is he your _boyfriend_," said Sara maliciously.

"Anything but," she answered coldly and clammed up.

* * *

A/N Mr. Counselor is based on my guidence counselor. Very annoying man...but at least he's helping me with college...

Thank you again to all those reviewers, I can't tell you how excited I get when I read your reviews...and thanks also to the readers!


	11. Chapter 11: The House

_She entered the broken home. _

_Her front door was shattered and she had to duck under the bright yellow tape. Splinters and glass were scattered along the slate flooring of the entryway. _

_She entered the fatal room, a cardboard box in hand. Her mother's prized curio cabinet, full of precious heirloom crystal, was smashed. As she glanced around the room, visions danced in her head: the good times, the bad; the Christmases, the birthday parties. This life was over._

_Only a single tear fell down her face as she picked up the pieces of her shattered family and gathered her memories; careful to walk around the blood pools, stains on her heart.

* * *

_

Sara and Grissom didn't go in with her her. Jessica didn't want anyone to be in there; she preferred to do it alone. Out of respect for her wishes, the escorting officers stood just outside the door, guarding against the invisible enemies.

"Maybe there _is_ some kind of murder gene. One that…oh, I don't know, attracts this kind of attention: bad attention."

"Sara, there is no murder gene. I've already told you that."

"I know, but do you think that what's happened here is a coincidence? Murder seems to run in my family."

"Yes, but these are different circumstances. So you see, just a coincidence."

"I don't buy it. Something fishy is in here somewhere," she said looking at her hands, turning them over.

"Oh, stop it!" he said as he lightly pushed her hands back down to her side. They stood silently for a time.

"I'm glad that she doesn't have to go to foster care," Sara said after a while. "Even if I hadn't signed any papers, I would still have come back in heartbeat for her. When my father…died…my brother and I had no where else to go. Our grandparents were long dead and all other family…there was no where to go. He didn't want that to happen to his children; and certainly not with mine either…" she trailed off.

"Do you want kids?" Grissom asked her.

"I don't know. I never really pictured my self with kids and the whole soccer-mom thing. But maybe someday, at the right time, with the right person." She looked over to him. Their eyes were locked for a few moments. Sara pursed her lips and looked back to the ground. Grissom turned his head to the front door.

Jessica came out of the broken home, a full card board box in her arms and a large case slung over her shoulder.

"Here, let me help you," he reached over to take the slipping black case.

"No," she said quickly, jerking away her shoulder (causing it to slip more) and handed him the box instead. "Sorry, but I don't trust anyone with my violin that hasn't had just as much, if not more, experience with instruments than me."

"Oh, okay, sorry," he said apologetically. Jessica smiled kindly at him as she transferred the large case from her shoulder to her hand. Her smile fell as she turned to her sober aunt.

Jessica burst into tears. She plopped her violin on the ground as Sara wrapped her arms around her as Jess buried her face in Sara's puffy coat. Her first real release of emotion since she had to identify the bodies, the cruel "standard procedure".

"It's gonna be okay, Jess," Sara whispered, her voice starting to crack, "It's gonna be okay. We'll get through this. You're not alone. We'll make it." She was now crying too.

Grissom stood there with the box in his hand, not really knowing what to do. Not wanting to intrude on this moment any longer, he walked to the car, which was parked on the street, and put the box of memories in the trunk.


	12. Chapter 12: The Funeral Guests

Cold October had turned into icy November. The investigation was ongoing and at a stand-still. So far the police hadn't made any arrests or come up with any suspects. The detective was getting frustrated. The girl was going to be leaving soon, and leaving without answers. He could feel the critical eyes of _Dr_. Grissom and that crazy aunt of Jessica's (Sara was it?) following his every move. So what if they're from the second best lab in the country? Funds were limited and they were trying to do all they could, the fastest they could. His department was trying hard to find the evidence that wasn't there. Whoever hit that house knew what they doing, and knew her.

As annoyed as he was by Jessica's aunt, he was glad that they were leaving the state. He just hoped that they didn't tell anyone where they were going. The crazy (crazies?) that killed the girl's family, obviously had something against her. _But what?_

Jessica didn't seem threatening. She was a good student with lots of friends, no criminal record, she never got in trouble at school; and drugs didn't seem a likely motive…

The case was going nowhere fast.

* * *

The service was held in the large church in which she had spent days hiding. Jessica, alone, silently walked up to the open casket of her father. He didn't look as she had remembered. His hair wasn't the right color; the face was pale and distorted by the make up artist who tried to piece it back together. The last time she had seen her father, the back of his head had been blown apart.

The funeral was nearly empty. Jessica hadn't wanted a large turnout and didn't advertise it in the paper; afraid that the murders would show up.

Aside from Sara, the Jessica Sidle had no relatives. Her mother was an only child whose parents died years ago. Her father's parents were killed in car wreck when he and his sister were young. If Jessica had any other relatives, they were unknown to her.

A few of her parent's colleagues showed their sad faces and tear filled eyes. She picked out Brandon's best friend, Joey, and his mother. Poor Joey couldn't control his grief, nor did he try. _Little kids shouldn't have to grieve like this,_ she thought.

The service continued at the cemetery, the biting wind nipping the mourners' ears. A final prayer was said, the last hymn sung, and broken family was laid to rest in the cold ground.

* * *

Sara, alone, approached her big brother's casket. His face was unfamiliar to her. The years of separation and the gun shot had distorted her memory of him. She remembered the big brother that had tried, unsuccessfully, to get her out of foster care and live with him while he was in college. This older man with the plastered face was not the brother she remembered.

The church had a different air during the day; much more welcoming and friendly. The people she didn't know gave her sad smiles, hugs, and "I'm so sorry"'s as though they had been the closest friends in the world.

The family was interred and the mourners left. Jessica walked off into the quiet cemetery by herself while Sara stayed under the green tent watching her.

Grissom walked up behind her and slipped an arm around her waist. The three weeks they had been in town, they continued to sleep in the same bed. No matter how far apart they started the night, they always ended up in each others arms in the morning. Neither admitted it to the other, but they enjoyed it very much.

Sara drew closer to him so her head was tucked under his freshly shorn chin. She liked him better without the beard.

The pair was watching Jessica intently as she slowly weaved around the graves, walking aimlessly. On every one of these spots, Jessica thought, a fake green carpet had been spread, a green shelter had been set up, teary-eyed families and friends had gathered around to send a loved one to eternity. Every plot of land held a story, a life. The Sidle story had yet to be finished.

She looked up and saw a boy standing about a hundred feet from her, leaning against a large piece of granite bearing Walter. _I know him from somewhere_ she thought; the distance and the creeping fog distorted the boy's face from a full view. Her forehead crinkled and brows knit together while she tried to remember who he was.

Her eyes waxed full. She about-faced and hurried back up to the tented shelter where the funeral director was lowering her young brother's casket.

* * *

Mwahaha, the plot thickens... 


	13. Chapter 13: The Uninvited Guests

Sara and Grissom, cozy under the tent, saw Jessica hurrying up the hill. Halfway up, she glanced over her shoulder. He was gone.

"What are you running from?" Sara asked with concern when Jessica reached the tent. She turned to face the Walter's stone. There was no sign of him, whoever he was. She _knew_ that she knew him, from somewhere. Jessica couldn't put her finger on it, but after seeing him for the second time (the first at the school), she had a horrible feeling brewing in her gut. "Jess?"

"Did you…you…um…didn't happen to see that guy standing over there?" she asked.

"What guy?" Grissom asked, his brow clouding.

"I don't know. He was about my height, my age…I just saw him standing over by that big head marker; the Walter one?" She pointed to the empty air around the headstone.

Sara looked, but shook her head. "Sorry, hon, I didn't see anybody. Maybe it was someone for the Walters."

Jessica heaved a sigh, and shook her head her forehead clenched in thought. "I don't know…I think I know him, somehow…" She trailed off.

A faint noise like an engine was heard. Sara turned to see where it was coming from. The cemetery owner was coming towards them followed by a CAT and some workers. Jess gave them a look then turned her thoughts back that boy. The owner approached Sara and Grissom with a meek about look him.

"Please," he said in a soft, sugary voice he saves for the families of the departed, "Please, take your time. We don't want you to feel rushed. Take as much time as you need to say ahem goodbye." The milling workers and the idling diesel engine of the CAT fifty yards away suggested otherwise. Jessica turned and flashed him a true Sidle eyebrow raise. Grissom couldn't help cracking a small smile.

After holding the owner's gaze for a moment, Jessica returned to a serious mode. "Just give me a second." She looked at the caskets that she and Sara picked out: very simple wooden ones. They were inexpensive and the loved ones could return to the earth faster in a wooden coffin. Little Brandon's was already halfway lowered into the ground. A friend of her mother had paid for flowers to top the lids. After a quiet moment, she stretched out a gloved hand and pulled a yellow rose from her mother's arrangement.

"Let's go," she said. Sara put an arm around her shoulders as they started walking.

"Grissom?" Sara turned to him. He was still looking at the Walter headstone.

"Uh, you two go ahead," He said. "I want to check something out."

Sara and Jessica turned away and started walking along the now empty curvy pathway that wound towards the cemetery gates. The cold wind had suddenly stopped its hard icy biting and a softer cold breeze replaced it. The sky was grey: it was holding a secret that it couldn't wait to share.

An icy particle shimmered down from heaven and landed on Jessica's coat. Her eyes that were filled with sadness all day, suddenly turned bright and smile crossed her lips. Another and another fell until the air around them was swirling with snow. Sara saw her delight when she and her niece locked eyes. Sara, a Californian attuned to its sunshine and warmth, looked confused at Jessica's pleasure at the freezing, bitter snowstorm.

"When it snows, I know it's snowing for me," Jessica explained.

She raised her head up to sky and laughed as the flakes melted at the touch of her skin.

* * *

Grissom briskly walked down the hill towards the headstone. An icy finger found its way under his collar. He shivered. _How can the Nebraskans stand this? _he thought as he pulled the collar closer to his neck.

He found the large black granite headstone bearing the name Walter. Surrounding it were other smaller stones from the various members of the family, some of whom were missing the death dates. Grissom looked closer at one:

'Bethany Mae Walter/ B. March 31, 2003 D. — '

_Why would you buy a plot for your four-year-old daughter_? He shook his head and turned his attention back to the big head stone. There were no signs of anyone having been here. He stood next to the headstone and adjusted himself until he had a perfect view of the deconstructing green tent.

Grissom looked around. He glanced at the ground around his feet. With pleasure, he raised an eyebrow_. Here's_ _something I could work with_. At his feet was a pile of fresh sunflower seed shells.

Someone had definitely been here.

* * *

A/N: It's late, and I'm on the computer. I wasn't going to update for about another day, but here's a little treat. Return the favor! REVIEW!!! Thank you to all who have already; reviews really make my day! 


	14. Chapter 14: Truth and Lies

A/N: Mr. Counselor makes another appearance in this chapter. I'm not giving him a name because I want you, the dearly beloved reader, to put the most clueless person you know in as his character. It's far more enjoyable:)

* * *

Sara and Jessica were soon rejoined by Grissom; the snow spiraling at a greater speed now. He and Sara locked eyes. Worry was written across his face and his eyes read 'we need to talk later'. She slightly nodded her head in response.

Grissom joined the pair to Sara's left, her right being occupied with Jessica. Sara, without glancing at him, slipped her arm through his. Her characteristic smile formed as she stared ahead at the path before them. His lips twitched slightly and he placed a hand on her arm, completing the circuit.

However, the silence soon grew from comforting to awkward as the wind picked up anew the bitter coldness. After a bit, Grissom tried to start a conversation.

"So, um, Sara, have you been able to contact your mother yet about…uh…all this?" During the weeks that they had been in Omaha, Sara had been contacting the California State Women's Prison trying to get in touch with her mother. The psychiatrist on hand did not think that Mrs. Sidle was emotionally stable enough to hear about her son's death.

"No," Sara replied, "I've been calling everyday, but they think that hearing from me would devastate her, let alone hearing about my brother's death. They're afraid that she'll relapse from all the rehab work they've done with her dealing with PTSD; part of it is due to me. We didn't exactly part on good terms. We got into a yelling match when I was in college. It ended with me getting escorted out by security. We haven't been in touch since."

"_Your_ mother?" Jessica asked confused. "Did you and Dad have different moms?"

"No, I'm talking about your Grandma Sidle: my and your father's mother."

"But Grandma Sidle's dead."

Sara exchanged confused looks with Grissom. She shook her head and turned back to Jessica. "Why do you think that? What did you heard about her?"

"Dad said she and Grandpa died in a car accident when he was 17 and you were…9… I think?" she stated. "Well anyway, since you had no near relatives or guardians, you were both put in foster care."

"Oh really, well…um…well maybe now isn't the best time to talk about it then…"

"Hey, you were the one that brought it up," Jessica continued saucily. "Finish up the story about my living imprisoned grandmother so I won't be scratching my head until I'm more 'emotionally stable'."

After a moment Sara started, "Well, your dad and I grew up in house with alcohol and domestic abuse. It was…horrendous…and that's complimenting it. My father was an angry drunk; I actually have no memories of him that don't have liquor involved. When he drank, he got mad; and when he got mad he took it out on the nearest object or person, although, to him those were interchangeable. Mom always got the worst of it."

She paused for a moment, her voice cracking and eyes watering at the awful memories. Sara felt a gentle squeeze on her left arm that filled her with the strength to continue.

"Well, one day I came from school and I smelled something so strange; now it's as familiar as my perfume," she chuckled as a tear fell. "I called 'Mommy…Daddy?' I walked into their bedroom……Mommy had gotten fed up. 'Daddy isn't going to hurt any of us no more' she said. A neighbor called in a domestic disturbance and child services took us away."

The wind rushing through the snow was all that could be heard.

The trio walked through the snow and silence and out of the cemetery.

* * *

Knock, knock, knock 

"Yes, come-in," Jessica's counselor gestured from his desk with out looking up. He was too busy looking over another student's college application to see who was coming in.

"Um, hello sir," a boy asked timidly. "Are you…um…Jessica Sidle's counselor?"

"Uh…give me a second here reeeeaal quick…" he mumbled he while finished the sentence on the application essay. He penciled a quick mark and jerked his head up to meet a nice looking young fellow with a polite air about him. "Am I Miss Sidle's counselor? Yes, I _was_ but she doesn't attend this school anymore. She moved last week."

"Oh really," the boy said sadly. "Because I have this card for her from our History class—" he held up a sealed Hallmark envelope "—And when I sent it to her, it was returned a couple days later."

"Ah, and I bet you're wanting her _new_ address," Mr. Thick-head said and the boy's face lit up like Christmas tree on fire and he nodded. "Well sure, yeah I think I have it here, somewhere…"

Mr. Counselor rifled through a stack of folders from last week that he had yet to take care of and retrieved a near empty manila folder. "Ah, here it is," he said brightly. An Iowa West University pen in his hand, he wrote out Sara's PO Box address in Las Vegas onto a sticky-note and handed it to the patient young man.

"Thank you very much sir," he said with a wide grin.

"Oh, yeah, yeah, no problem," the helpful man turned away to pick the essay up again. He said as he turned back to the door, "You have a good day n—"

But the boy was gone.

* * *

A/N: I hope you enjoyed it. I had a lot of fun with this address-asking scene. I'd really like some feed back on the story. Do you think it's worth finishing?? (I have most of it written but I am stumped for an ending) 


	15. Chapter 15: Back in Vegas

A/N: Were I to put this in a book, This chapter would begin Part II. I honestly I forgot about this chapter since I've written it so I hope you like it! Sorry it's been a while since I updated. School has been (fill in the blank) lately but it should be better in a couple of weeks. I look forward to posting more soon but for now enjoy this:

* * *

PART II

Sara rolled over in bed, incapable of getting comfortable. The past month, she had been tossing and turning, unable to get more than a few hours of sleep. _I guess I just got so used to him being here,_ she thought as she stared at the empty side of her bed.

The Sara, Jessica, and Grissom had been back in Vegas for nearly four weeks now and had gone their separate ways. The school had been picked, Sara moved into a safer part of town, and life had continued in a slightly altered course. Since Jessica wouldn't start school until after the winter break; she had spent her days in the new apartment while Sara slept.

Sara had returned to the night shift, although she wasn't letting herself stay any longer than necessary these days. She finally had a reason to leave work. Her apartment was not just a place to eat, sleep, and shower anymore. It had become a home.

Sara had never pictured herself as a mother figure before. But then again, this wasn't "motherhood" in a traditional way. She had always pictured it as the stressed out lady at the mall, pushing a stroller with a screaming infant while dragging along a fit-throwing toddler; cooking cleaning and pretending life is perfect while Mr. Husband spends his day at the office. But Sara's way was entirely different. In truth, she was only providing food, shelter, and conversation to her nearly grown-up niece.

She wished, however, that she could do more for Jessica. But Sara knew she could never replace the mother she lost. She could tell by the loving way her niece was scrap-booking the pictures from the house, that they had been close. Maybe her sister-in-law hadn't been so bad.

Work was different though. Sara and Grissom had worked only a couple of cases together since they had returned. Although he didn't treat her with the coldness that he had in the past, but he wasn't very warm either. He had made casual inquiries about Jessica and the new neighborhood, but that was about it. It was as if they had never been in Omaha together at all.

Sara began to recall that last night together before they left Omaha. _No, no, stop it Sidle!! _she yelled at herself, trying to suppress the once happy memory that had since become a sort of pain.

Unable to stand the lack of sleeping any longer, she got out of bed and dressed. She locked her apartment and started on a run. In the dark and her state of distress, she nearly bowled over a teen in a black hoodie, probably part of the local gang.

"Hey! Watch where you're goin' lady!" he yelled after her along with a lovely hand gesture.

"Sorry," she called back, twenty feet ahead of him now.

_Get a grip on yourself_! She ran until she felt all her frustration and longing leave her.

* * *

Across the city in a cold townhouse, Gil Grissom turned over out of sleep to discover that after a month, he was still alone. 

During the stay in Omaha, he had gotten so used to having her close to him, his arms around her. He missed the smell of her hair right under his nose. Sometimes when he couldn't sleep in their hotel room (which wasn't very often when Sara was near), he would whisper things to her he wasn't courageous enough to say in the conscious hours. More than once, he had felt her kiss him softly in the morning which he would ignore until she got up to get coffee.

The last night together, neither had slept. They had lain in bed together, his fingers gently caressing her arm until she had turned and kissed him, which he finally returned.

The plane trip had been too short and they were soon parted in the bustle of work and life in Las Vegas.

Sara and he had returned to their night shift schedules, but the Crime Scene Unit had been so busy that he hardly saw her these days. He wasn't being intentionally cold to her, but he did keep his distance a bit, as much as he didn't want to.

Catherine had been part of his reason for being distant. She kept asking about his month's absence with Sara. Apparently, she didn't believe his story about Jessica's family. The rumor mill had been coming up with its own theories as well: a trip to Paris was just one of many. Grissom wished very much that it had been that instead of a triple murder which brought them together.

Grissom attempted to reposition himself but he was flopping around like a fish out of water; he got up and dressed, and went to the lab to do more paperwork.

* * *

_Aunt Sara can't sleep again_. Jessica couldn't either. She still couldn't get used to this city. The freezing nights, hot days…life on a desert oasis was much different from life in the Heartland. But that wasn't the only reason. Vegas was too crowded, too busy, too touristy…too everything except homey. This wasn't a family town; it's a get-rich-quick-or-going-hungry-trying kind of city, and Sara was one of the people who worked hard to cleanup the mess's leftovers. 

But Jessica was trying; trying real hard to see past the Strip's blinding lights and see the natural beauty of Nevada. Jessica had planned on starting anew here and leaving her past behind her in Omaha. Even that was becoming more difficult than she thought. She had received a strange letter the other day that told her that it was impossible to move on so easily. She still hadn't told Sara or Grissom about it. Jessica reached over, clicked on her lamp and pulled out the Hallmark card.

It was a normal, sappy 'Our deepest regrets, we'll pray for you' kind of card but the message the sender had written told another story:

_I don't know where you were that night, you naughty girl, but you're about to get it, soon. Neither you nor your aunt will know when, where, or how; but you know very well who and why. Don't try anything silly again. Sleep tight…_

Jessica jumped with fright as she heard Sara open the apartment door and leave, but relieved to hear her lock it. Jessica tried to settle her nerves down: S_he's only going to be gone for a little while…no need to panic…yet_. A few seconds later, she heard a verbal attack from the parking lot. She quickly clicked the light off and rose out of bed to the window. _It's probably just some gang, yeah, that's it, nothing to worry my head off about_. Praying for a violent street gang, she lifted a flap from the shades with one finger she and peered out with an eye. There was a single light pole on in the parking lot. A person dressed in a black hoodie stopped into the flood of light and looked up to her window. Her heart nearly jumped out of her chest.

He was back again.

* * *

Reviews would make my day, and maybe I could post sooner than I anticipate...Thanks again to all of you who have reviewed! 


	16. For the Victims and Families

A/N: Hello again, here is an update much sooner than I anticipated and I have a reason:

I love CSI and I think it is a fabulous show. But what is not fabulous is when the real CSI's have to go to work, be on TV, and investigate the same kinds of cases in real life.

Today my community of Omaha, NE became a real crime scene when a depressed teen opened fire in the local mall, killed 8 people, wounded 5, and took his own life. Violence like has become all too common place these days: wacko's think that they'll achieve a spot in history, be something, and admired. Suicide is a horrible thing to do, but taking out other people before you end yours is SO MESSED UP!!! So many lives are forever changed because of what the shooter did today. But it is most certainly **_NOT _**admirable! And if you, Mr. Mall Shooter think that I will remember you in the least, think again. I will remember the people that died; I will remember that they died for nothing but your selfish conquest for remembrance; I will think about this tragedy and the families whenever I shop at the Westroads Mall until the day I die. But I will NEVER remember your name! I am making it MY PERSONAL MISSION TO FORGET IT!

To my readers, my community is hurting right now at the hands of the afforementioned person: please keep the families of the victims and the shooter and all affected in your thoughts and prayers as we cope.

* * *

"_Please_ Sara!" 

"No. I'll get in trouble."

"Please, please, please!"

"I already said 'no'."

"I can't sit here in this apartment for another minute by myself! I need to get out!"

"I_ can't_. I'll get in trouble."

"With who? Who's going to care about _one_ girl reading a book, sitting on a couch and not bothering anyone? Who? Please let me go to work with you!"

Sara thought for a moment. Grissom wouldn't mind terribly, but Ecklie would. But then again, Ecklie works on day shift….

"Please, Aunt Sara…" _Uh oh._ Sara thought; _she turned on the puppy-dog eyes_._ Boy, she has mastered it…_

After a moment, Sara sighed melodramatically "Fine. As long as you stop calling me 'Aunt'. It makes me feel old."

With a pleased smile on her face, Jessica picked up her book bag and set off to work with Sara.

At the top of the hour, Grissom left his office with a stack of assignments in hand. He strolled past the glass wall to the break room where his team awaited him. Looking in from the doorway, he noticed that the group wasn't spread out in various pairs like they normally are, but in a group near the table.

Catherine turned to face him. "So, I guess you weren't lying," she said brightly with a wink.

Raising an eyebrow, he went to see what she was talking about. A bright young face beamed at him upon first look. "Hi, Grissom!"

"Hey, Jess," he said, surprised. "What are you doing here?"

She opened her mouth to answer, but Sara quickly inserted:

"She begged me. I'm sorry. If you don't want her here, I can drop her back off on the way to the crime scene"—a pair of young, furious eyes shot daggers at the betrayer.

Shaking his head, "I don't have a problem with it. She can just stay in my office." The beaming face again returned.

"Okay, then," he said, "Assignments…"

Christmas was just a few days away now. A chilly wind now blew through Las Vegas. When the team would go out on assignments, they were bundled up and wore gloves under the standard latex ones. But that was only at night. During the day, it was mild, 60 degree weather.

It was on a very mild December 22 when Sara and Grissom were working together for one of the few times that first month. They were hard at work processing the evidence from a recent murder at the Tangiers. An out-of-towner had been beaten and robbed just outside his room after winning a large Jackpot. Grissom had finished collecting a blood sample when Sara finally asked him what had been on her mind all shift.

"So, um, Grissom, are you working on Christmas?"

"No," said Grissom absentmindedly capping the swab, "No, I asked for it off."

"Well," she started, "I was—Jess _and_ I—want to invite you to Christmas dinner at our apartment. I mean, if you don't already have plans or anything…"

"No," he replied brightly with a smile, "I don't have any plans. What time do you want me to come over?"

"Oh, about seven on Christmas Eve. Jessica is cooking. She's a wonderful cook; well at least her stuff smells really good. Pretty soon, I might have to give up being a vegetarian."

"Why, doesn't she cook veggie dishes?"

"No. She absolutely refuses. You forget she's from Nebraska: Land of Beef. To quote her: 'Humans didn't climb their way to the top of the food chain to eat like rabbits.'"

Grissom and Sara chuckled together. Catherine just happened to be passing by the door of the processing room at the moment. Intrigued, she stopped. _DNA can wait a minute_ she thought. She positioned herself close to the door where she could hear, but not be seen.

"So, seven o' clock?" she heard Grissom say. "Seven o' clock" Sara confirmed. "Do you want me to take that swab to DNA for you?" "Sure," he replied.

Catherine turned her head so she could just see in the room with one eye. Grissom handed Sara the box with the swab in it. Their hands made contact, but he wouldn't let go. "Sara," he began, "I…"

"It's okay," Sara replied, her other hand gently resting on his arm. Catherine couldn't believe her eyes. Grissom _had_ finally given in to her. Catherine's lips twisted into a smile when Grissom leaned in and kissed Sara on the cheek.

"And who are we spyin' on now, Ms. Willows?" Catherine jumped a mile when the little voice whispered in her ear. She spun around to be met by Nick Stokes.

"Good God, Nicky," she said flustered. "_Don't_ do that! You should warn someone before you scare the living hell out of them!"

"Same goes, for spying, _Catherine_," Nick replied mockingly.

"What's going on?" Sara appeared in the doorway, swab in hand and bound for the DNA lab.

"Oh, nothin'," Nick said in his Southern drawl with a smile. "I was just playin' a little joke on Catherine here."

"Oh, okay," and off she went.

Grissom appeared in the doorway to see the commotion as well. Unfortunately, Nick had already left and it was just Catherine and Grissom. He gave her an eyebrow raise, knowing very well what she was doing there, and went to his office.

* * *

Disclaimer: I haven't been putting lately but the Characters (except for Jessica and Mr. Counselor) do not belong to me, they belong to CBS. 


	17. Chapter 17: Christmas with the Sidles

A/N: Thank you all for your comments, concerns, and thoughts on the horrible tragedy that happened last week. Please continue to keep the familes in mind and prayer during this holiday season.

On a lighter note, plot-related, I know that its sort of still early for a Christmas Chapter, but updating is good! Now before I get a bunch of hate reviews, I have nothing against vegetarians, and if that's what you prefer, great. I'm a Nebraskan, raised on blood red cattle meat and there's nothing I love more than a barbeque. I just thought the following scene would be amusing. Enjoy, Happy Hanukkah and an early Christmas!

* * *

At seven o' clock sharp, a quick knock was heard through Sara's apartment. Sara, however, was currently occupied with the boiling-over pot of chili on the stove. _Darn_ _it! Jess said medium-low, not medium-high, didn't she!_ she thought. 

"Coming!" Sara shouted "Just give me a second!"

She heaved the full pot off the hot burner to cool down only to slosh hot liquid on the new shirt she was wearing. Grissom, who was waiting patiently outside the door with a homemade pumpkin pie, raised an eyebrow at the torrent of curses he heard approaching the door.

"Hi," Sara said, opening the door with a sweet smile, "Sorry, I, uh, got tied up at the stove…" She had a dish towel in hand sopping up the now freezing chili juice from her black shirt.

"I thought that you said Jessica was cooking," he remarked with a smirk as Sara let him in.

"Yeah, she is but she is at church right now and she gave me some cooking directions, actually, reheating, and I _still_ manage to screw that up." She was furiously scrubbing away at the wet shirt.

"Did you get burned?" he inquired.

"I don't know, maybe, probably. I'll…uh, change out of this, before I burn the building down." She smiled awkwardly.

Sara turned to go, but Grissom caught her hand and she turned back to him. He cupped her cheek with his other hand and lightly kissed her on the lips. "Merry Christmas," he murmured to her, their foreheads touching, both smiling at the natural feel of being this close.

"You too," she replied softly. After a moment, "I'm going to go change; my shirt is wet and cold." After a prolonged moment, the gap between them grew and then was separated by a door.

Smiling to himself, Grissom looked about the small apartment. Sara's room was to his right next to the sitting area/office/dining room. There was another closed door adjacent to the kitchen which he assumed was Jessica's room. He then spied the newest _Forensic Journal_, sat on the couch and delved into it.

He wasn't reading for five minutes when he heard frantic feet in the hall. After the sound of fumbling keys and a turn of a lock, Jessica quickly slipped through the door and locked it behind her. Not seeing Grissom, she crossed the living area to the sliding glass door which led to a small balcony facing the north. _Why did Sara leave these open?_ she thought as she went to shut the curtains. The silhouette of a man in a black hoodie appeared under the light of the lamp post and looked up at the teem. She shivered and in one quick movement, pulled the drapes shut.

"Who are you running from?" Grissom asked sending Jessica three feet in the air.

"Oh go–! Y…you scared me!"

"What's going on?" Sara asked as she reappeared in a different red shirt.

"Oh, umm…nothing," Jessica replied still flustered, her heart pounding in her ears. "Grissom just scared me." Trying to give a normal impression, she calmly crossed over to the closet and hung up her coat. Grissom gave her a quizzical look but didn't say anything more.

The night continued somewhat normally. Jessica dished up two bowls of steaming beef chili while Sara nuked a veggie burger. She gazed wistfully at the spicy and flavorful dish being served up next to her. _Now Sara, you committed to being a vegetarian: you have to resist the temptation_ she told herself. A few minutes into the meal however, Jessica spied her prey and made her first move.

"So Sara," she began brightly, "Are you enjoying your lukewarm processed soy food product?"

_Yes you are, Sidle! Don't say anything, just give her that look; yeah that's it. Don't show her you're weak!_

"Hmm…that good eh? Is it delightfully flavorful? Does it please and stimulate your palate? Better than this chili?"

"No, I bet it's not," Grissom chimed in. He gave Jessica a wink.

_Oh great, so he's playing along now. Just don't give in…even if it has fresh vegetables and spices…it's tainted with bloodshed and cruelty! Hamburger! Gross! Who ever thought ground up shoulder meat would be appetizing?_

"So, Jess," Grissom asked overly brightly, "Do tell me about these excellent vegetables."

"Why certainly, Gilbert! I picked them out fresh at the market this morning!"

"Even the bell peppers?"

"Even the bell peppers!"

"Wow, I never knew such wonderful flavors could be extracted from so simple a vegetable!"

"Mmm…mmm…mmm!" Jess said as she took a bite.

_Ha! They think they can break me! Well, they can just watch…_

Grissom returning back to his normal voice: "You really should at least try this, honey." He offered his spoon to her.

_Uh-oh. _Sara was sorely tempted.

She slowly reached out and took the spoon in her hand. _It' just one bite, that doesn't make me a traitor to the animals...does it?_ She took bite. Flavors of different peppers, spices and vegetables exploded in her mouth. She gratefully swallowed and the wonderful burn of cumin and cayenne pepper lingered on her tongue. She wanted more.

Ignoring the looks of Jessica and Grissom, she picked up her half eaten veggie burger, opened the trash lid and threw it away. Sara then took out a bowl and dished up some of the chili.

* * *

"I cooked, you clean!" Jessica announced after the meal. 

"Fine, but you clean tomorrow," Sara replied.

Contented, Jessica turned to Grissom: "I need some help with a make-up project for school. Can you help me?"

He gave her the affirmative and she led him to her room. Jessica occupied a very small, very neat living space. She and Sara had a corner apartment had a window that faced the west in Jessica's room. Grissom glanced at her book shelf while she rummaged through the side table.

"Defoe, Hardy, Swift…quite the collection. Very impressive." Grissom commented.

She turned to him with a sheepish smile: "Well, if my generation doesn't read them, then the books get lost. I'm just doing my duty." she replied but then her smile disappeared. She sighed and began: "About a week after we moved here, I got this in the mail."

She handed Grissom the sympathy card. Jessica watched his face cloud and twist as he read the death threat. "Have you—" he started

"I haven't shown this to anyone. Not even Sara."

Grissom nodded. "Umm…and that's not all," she said softly. He raised an eyebrow. She indicated with a finger for him to be quiet and follow her to the window. With one finger she lifted up a single blind and motioned him to look out. As always, the man was under the street lamp in the distinctive hoodie.

"I thought at first he was just some drug dealer or a gang member," she started whispering, "But then after I saw him at the grocery store, and the library, and the Chinese place Sara and I go to, I started to get suspicious. I watched him stand there all night once and no one met him. He just stands there chewing tobacco or sunflower seeds or something…"

When she mentioned the sunflower seeds, a spark flickered in Grissom's memory_. There were shells at the cemetery!_

Two stories down and across a drive, the man in the hoodie looked up to the girl's lighted window. The shadows were too obvious. _She's watching me again_. A cruel smile splayed across his face as he turned his head and spit out sunflower shells.

Seeing him looking up, Jessica let the window flap down. "Turn off the lights!" she hissed to Grissom. Quickly, he crossed the room and flipped the switch.

In the dark, he was now aware of Sara's soft voice singing and the dishes clinking together as she scrubbed away without a care. The alpha male in him kicked in: he couldn't let anything happen to these two women.

He leaned out of Jessica's door. "Sara," he softly called. She noted the concern on his face and came up to him. He motioned for her to be quiet, took her hand and led her to the window. Imitating Jessica with her single finger on the shade, he placed his other hand in the small of Sara's back and positioned her so she could see the man.

"He's sent a death threat and has been stalking Jessica since you came back to Vegas," he whispered in her ear.

The memory of a cold morning run flashed in her mind: ‛_Hey…Watch where you're goin' lady!' A young man in black hoodie yelled after her with an offensive gesture…_

Sara gasped realizing that she had bumped right into him. She turned to Grissom with fear and found safety in his eyes.

"I'll take care of you."

That night with a few belongings hidden under their coats, the trio crossed the parking lot talking about getting dessert at a nice restaurant somewhere. They nonchalantly got into Grissom's car and drove to his apartment to wait out the coming events…

* * *

A/N: I have this story written already, except the ending, but I'm editing it, updating details and changing a few things and I'm more than sure I've left inconstistancies in regards to ages, or dates or addresses. If you find something horrendously wrong in those areas, please let me know so I can change it:) Thanks! 


	18. Chapter 18: One Pizza, hold the Fright!

A/N: What a lame title for a chapter! Sorry

Disclaimer: As much as I want to, I own ZIP ZERO NADDA of CSI or CBS for that matter...I'm just a fan...

* * *

It had been several weeks since Sara and Jessica took refuge at Grissom's apartment. Jessica absolutely refused to leave; Sara and Grissom left only for work. When Jessica should have been starting school with the new term, it was decided to wait another semester. If the hooded stalker had found out where she lived, surely he knew where her new school was. She spent her days looking out the windows for signs of the man. Hopefully, he knew nothing about Grissom, or Uncle Gil, as she has affectionately named him.

So as not to elicit strange attention, awkward questions, and comments from Catherine and their coworkers at arriving in one car, Sara and Grissom briefed the team on the home situation with the stalker. But they both knew that it would not be hard for the hooded guy to discover their place of work. They instructed the team that if the stalker tried to contact any of the them, they would immediately inform Sara or Grissom. They however left out the part that Jessica had the single guest room to herself. Although the situation was stressful and trying, both Sara and Grissom enjoyed playing house.

"Sara, Nick," said Grissom, extending a half sheet of paper to the pair, "DB at the Mirage. You'll meet Brass the scene."

Nick and Sara grabbed their kits and headed out in one of the SUV's.

"So," Nick started, "How's Jessica doing these days?"

"Oh," Sara sighed, "I worry about her. She can't be in school, she won't leave the house. When we come home from work she's still sitting in the same place by the window…It's been over three weeks, she needs to get out. We haven't seen the guy since we left…maybe he's left Las Vegas…"

Nick's lips twisted in a smirk at her use of 'we' and 'home'. "I highly doubt he's left Las Vegas. He's probably just biding his time until y'all get comfortable enough and let down your guard. That's when he'll strike."

"You're probably right," she sighed again. "The caregiver in me hopes for the best, the criminalist knows the more likely outcome…I just hate the thought of her sitting at home all day…you know…and all alone…"

"Well Sar," Nick began, "I'm taking vacation next week, and if you want she can come stay with me."

"Really, that'd be great Nicky," she beamed with pleasure. "I'm sure Jess'll agree to it. She'll even have a big strong man to protect her," she teased. Nick grinned and flexed his bicep.

"Two hours a day gotta be worth something."

Sara smiled and shook her head as they got out of the car, grabbed the kits and went to work.

Later that day, Sara was in the layout room examining the evidence from the Mirage case. She was just beginning to print the sunglasses found at the scene when Grissom walked in.

"Hey," she smiled.

"Hey," he beamed back, "how's it coming here?"

"Well," she started, "Tox confirmed the initial suspicions of a drug overdose," she swept her hand over the table covered with drug paraphernalia, "The evidence should tie itself into a neat bow, but this note here," picking up a bagged piece of paper, "could mean the difference between accidental, suicidal, homicidal, or nothing. It means nothing to me yet, but it meant something to the vic…" she trailed off shaking her head.

They were silent for a minute. "Oh!" Sara exclaimed making Grissom jump.

"Sorry," she whispered with a small grin. "I just remembered. Nick is taking next week off and he offered for Jess to stay with him. Get her out of the house you know…What do you think?"

"I think it's a good idea, will she go for it is the question."

"I'm gonna stop by and check on her, see if she wants to go out to eat for lunch or something. There's no food in the apartment so I'm sure Jess is hungry."

* * *

_Please be gone Please be gone Please be gone! _Jessica was curled in the fetal position in the back of her closet. _Why…why me? Oh please be gone, please be gone…_

Thirty minutes ago, she had called the nearby pizza place for a delivery. She watched out the window as usual on the lookout for the stalker. The pizza guy had driven up and parked. He called up and she had let him up. Someone, presumed to be the delivery boy, knocked on the door and she peered through the peep-hole. She nearly had a heart attack when she saw not the blond pizza boy in a red polo shirt but the stalker in his black sweatshirt holding the pizza box. Jessica tried to scream but she couldn't make a sound. She had taken off to her room and hid in the closet. The person at the door began to pound hard. Eventually he gave up, but she hadn't dared leave her hiding place.

_Please be gone, please be gone, oh Lord Almighty! Please be gone…_

Suddenly, the hall boards outside the apartment creaked. A shiver passed down her spine and she raised her head to see through the cracks of light coming in by the closet door. Someone was jiggling the front door handle and the lock clicked opened. The front door creaked as it opened. Jessica could hear footsteps across the threshold. Her heart was pounding in her ears and tears streamed down her face.

"Jessica?" Sara called for her niece. "Jess?" The bedroom door burst open and a tear streaked Jessica came barreling out and buried her face in Sara's neck. She was breathing hard and sobbing. "Honey what happened?" Sara asked, completely dumbfounded.

"He—he—he—he," she sobbed.

"Slow down," Sara responded and directed Jessica to sit on the couch. "Slow down or you'll hyperventilate."

Jessica took a deep breath, and wiped her face. "He came to the door today. I ordered out, I let the delivery man up, but it was _him_ who came to the door."

Sara took out her cell phone and punched the speed dial.

"_Grissom."_

"Gil, we have a problem."

* * *

A/N: Well, I'm starting to come down to the end of my prepared chapters, so my goal is to have this done by the end of the year (so soon already??) Pretty please review??? I have Christmas cookies! 


	19. Chapter 19: The move

A/N: I'm sorry it's been so long since I've updated. Reason: I had asked you readers to let me know of any inconsistancies since I'm reposting an old story I had...well when I was proofreading this chapter I noticed that several months pass in the span of a week...not good. So I had to rewrite chapter 18 and now gasp I must write new chapters until the end! Darn it! Well, I can't promise this'll be done before the New Year, but hang in there! Thank you to all who are still sticking with this story! I'm giving you all peanut-butter blossom cookies! Happy Holidays!

* * *

After hearing the news of the would-be pizza man, Gil Grissom rushed back home to the women. All he could think on the drive home was _Thank God nothing worse happened…it's alright Gil, calm down…Jessica is safe, Sara is safe…for now…_

The incident shook up Grissom and the Sidles. Jessica no longer felt safe in Grissom's apartment and the adults agreed. Grissom gave Nick his vacation a week early, and Jessica quickly packed to go with him to his apartment across town.

Jessica was transferred to Nick's apartment in disguise and they took a round-about Vegas to shake off any potential followers. She was all settled in his spare bedroom and their stomachs were grumbling.

"Order out or cook in?" Jessica asked.

"How about _going out_?" said Nick, tilting his head at the horrified teen.

"Go _out_?? Are you nuts??" She responded as though he had just asked her to bungee jump off the Empire State Building with a rubber band. "What if he's followed me? He could be outside right now. No, no, no, absolutely no!" And with a sense of finality she crossed her arms and sat back in the chair

"Now com'on Jess," Nick almost wined. "You'll be perfectly safe with me. I'm a pretty big, buff guy—" he flexed his muscles for her, eliciting a small smile "—with a nice shiny badge and a piece. No one is gonna come within forty miles of you, scout's honor," and he held up the three-fingered boy-scout salute.

"Umm…well," Jessica hesitated, "Alright. We'll go out. Somewhere quiet though so if we're being followed, it'll be easier to pick him out."

"Excellent," Nick said with his wide grin. "I know just the place too!"

They grabbed jackets and headed into the light, drizzly evening.

* * *

"Sara," Grissom approached her softly as he locked his apartment door after seeing Jessica off with Nick. She was standing by the window, looking out so forlornly like her niece. Sara felt so horrible to have put Grissom in this position.

"Gil," She turned towards him with watery eyes. "I can't stay here and neither can you."

"I know, honey, I know," Gil said as he pulled her into an embrace so she could cry on his shoulder. "It's scary, I know."

"It's not that," Sara sniffed. "It's just….sniff…I feel so bad that I involved you with my family's knot of problems."

Grissom gave her his character eyebrow raise. "What do you mean?"

"You were gone from work for an entire month, then Jess and I came here and invaded your space for weeks—believe me, I know how private you are and you can't enjoy this intrusion—and now you have to move because some crazy stalker who wants to kill us knows where you live. I've broken up your life…I'm so sorry Gil…"

"No, Sara." Grissom took her from his shoulder, held her at an arms length and looked her straight in the face. "Don't you dare say that. Yes, my previous way of life has been broken, but for the better. Do not think that for one minute I enjoyed coming home to an empty and cold apartment with nothing except some bugs to keep me company. Since I went with you to Omaha for Jessica, my life has completely turned around. I finally have purpose; I have a reason now to actually leave the lab. I have someone to come home to. I _have_ a home. I _want _to take care of you. I _want _you to encroach on my personal space as far as you want. I want to be with you. I'd move to the moon as long as I could still come home to you every night for the rest of my life. I—I love you Sara. I love you and Jessica like my own family. Hell, you _are_ my family; and the only thing that matters right now is finding a safe place to _be _a family. Now I'm not letting you leave alone: I love you too much to see hurt you anymore."

Tears were still streaming down Sara's face, but instead of tears of shame for inconveniencing Grissom they were tears of joy. She had been waiting ten years for Gil to say this to her. _I love you_. He really had said it. _Oh my, _Sara thought, _he's crying too!_

"I love you too, Gil. So, so, much." They shared a long awaited, passionate kiss. The unspoken words had finally been said. The wall that had separated them for so long had been slowly melting away over the past couple of months. Now, it had shattered.

Feeling the need for air, they broke apart, still pressed to each other. They stood like this for sometime, feeling for the first time true intimacy and openness with each other. Gil was the first to break the silence.

"Now, let's go house hunting."

With his arm slung around her waist and hers snaking around his back, Sara grabbed the car keys and they went to go see a realtor.

* * *

A/N: Sorry the chapter's so short! Reviews are SO much appreciated:) 


	20. Chapter 20: A house

AN/ Wow, the wait was much longer than I anticipated. I'm sorry for such a delay. I've been out of town and I have this story on two different computers and figuring out what I have on one computer or the other has been such a hassel! But I finally got this written, so enjoy and Happy 2008!

Disclaimer: As much as I would love to own CBS and CSI and give the writers all the money their hearts could want to write me new episodes, I don't own anything. Sniff. Oh, and I know nothing about how to buy a house and the house market right now; I heard it was bad, that's it. So I apologize for any factual errors that more than likely exist.

* * *

It was a sunny afternoon, hot and bright, when Gil Grissom and Sara Sidle co-signed on a loan for a new house in a quiet suburb of Las Vegas. The couple had met up with a realtor the very afternoon Jessica went to Nick's. That same day, a house the Palm Place neighborhood popped up and without any second thoughts, they decided to buy it.

"Our insurance companies will be very surprised," Sara said handing the pen over to Gil.

"Well, my dear, circumstances change," he replied signing the papers.

They shook hands with the realtor, closing the deal. Sensing that the couple wished to be alone, he hastily departed and let the pair muse on the impromptu purchase. _Geeze, with the way the market is right now,_ _these guys must be crazy buying a house so suddenly,_ the realtor thought as he steeled himself for a call recanting the purchase.

Gil and Sara were left to ponder their new status as homeowners and homemakers.

* * *

He finally decided to abandon the sweatshirt. It was neither a convenient cover nor practical for the desert weather anymore. For now he'll blend in with the crowd; it would make a better disguise. Anyway, they had moved the stupid girl ; it would take a few days to track her down. He had tried to follow Mr. Muscle's car when he picked her up, but he had limited funds to dole out to a gypsy cab driver on a weave around the city.

He was slowly trudging back to the boyfriend's place. _I guess I'll keep an eye on these two, for now…_ During his walks and stalks about the city, he became familiar with certain routes and areas of town. He knew the route from the two apartments to the lab like the back of his hand. Vegas was nice enough place, if that's what you liked; if only it wasn't so hot!

He rounded the corner and stopped still. The blazing afternoon sun was setting in the west, silhouetting the apartment building. He put up his hand to shield his eyes fromt he sun. Some of the people he had seen around the crime-scenes he had observed, including the boyfriend and aunt, were loading up boxes and furniture into a moving van.

A grinch-like smile crept up his face. _So, I **have **shaken them up, haven't I…_ His smile of triumphed was short-lived, however. _Great, now I need to find their new place…with no more taxi money that'll be hard…I wonder if Sandy could give me an advance…_

He realized that he had been standing on the corner for a while lost in his thoughts. The past few months he had been trying to act unsuspiciously. _This is no time to lose your cover!_ _Get a grip, man, just act cool…_he slowly sauntered by the moving van with open ears:

"So, Grissom and Sara…" a tall black man casually remarked to a youngish man with crazy hair.

"Yeah, so?" Crazy-hair replied, acting unconcerned.

"So? What do you mean 'so?' Didn't you have a thing for Sara?"

"Well, yeah, for a while, I guess. But she wasn't that into me…we're just good friends. She just couldn't handle the Gregonator!" _Eye roll **And** he making muscles!_

Chuckling the black man replied: "Yeah, just keep telling yourself that kid…"

_Like that was helpful,_ he thought as he stalked away. He wandered into the nearby convenience store and bought his usual sunflower seeds and jug of water. He decided to take the same route back to see if he could catch anymore conversation bits.

The two men had gone back in for another piece of furniture. Now two women, a blonde (_damn) _and the brunette he recognized as the aunt, were loading some boxes into the truck.

"So," the blonde remarked, "You two bought a house together…pretty serious, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess so," the aunt replied sheepishly. "I mean, we have been living together for a few months, so...yeah..."

"About time I'd say. You may not believe it, but Gil has been pining for you ever since you came to Vegas. I've never seen him so happy." _Not for long._

"I've never been so happy either," the aunt replied with a small smile as she leaned against the van. "I don't know how I could get through this without him. He's been my rock…" _Yeah, yeah, cut the gooey crap! **Where**, damn it!_

"Is this for real, then; is this it?"

"Yes, I really think so…"

"Well, Palm Place is a nice neighborhood to settle in and raise a family," the blonde remarked slyly; the aunt's eyes grew wide at the suggestion. "What, you never know; and you two aren't _that old_!"

With a smile, the aunt playfully hit the blonde at mock offence and they headed back into the building.

He stalked away with an unsuppressed smile. _Palm Place is nice, eh? Not for long…_

_

* * *

_AN: Thank you all again for the reviews, Pretty please review and let me know how I'm doing: ) 


	21. Chapter 21:An Intruder

Across town in a new house, the perfect size for three people and a boxer, Grissom and Sara were settling in for the night. At first, Jessica was not in favor for the dog since she was a cat person. But, as soon as she found out that Uncle Gil was allergic to her feline friends, she stopped protesting the dog. Altogether they went to the Humane Society and picked out the large dog, who immediately took a liking to Jessica.

"It's weird," Sara said as she came out of the bathroom, dressed in one of Grissom's t-shirts, "for Jessica to not be here."

She crawled into bed besides Grissom and snuggled up on his right side as the boxer leaped up onto the foot of the bed.

_Sigh _"It's only been six months and I feel as though I've known her my whole life," she reminisced.

"Mhm," Grissom said absentmindedly, working on a crossword.

"I wish I could have patched things up with my brother, you know before this all happened," Sara continued.

"You thought you had the rest of your lives to work it out," Grissom responded. "No one could have predicted this—what on earth? What's a really long word for the musical term for a 64th note??" he suddenly interjected.

"Umm… a hemidemisemiquaver," Sara answered sheepishly. Grissom raised an eyebrow at her. "_What?_ Jess mentioned it once."

"Yeah, sure," Grissom responded sarcastically as he put the half finished puzzle on the bedside table. He moved closer to Sara, wrapped both arms around her, and kissed her on the temple.

His nose trailed down her face and placed a soft kiss on her lips. As their hands moved—ahem—elsewhere, the dog jumped off the bed and ran out the door. Not half a minute later, loud barking issued from the kitchen. The dog ran back into the bedroom with his loud yelps and hair bristled.

Sara tore herself from her beloved's embrace and turned to the dog: "What is it? What's wrong?" Then she became rigid with fear.

"What's what?"

"Didn't you hear that? Listen."

"I can't hear with the damn dog barking! Shh!" The obedient dog immediately silenced his barks and commenced wining in Sara's lap.

Indeed, Gil heard a clunking coming from the back door of the house. Their hearts pounded in their ears. Involuntarily, Sara drew closer to Grissom and he wrapped his arm around her.

"It...could just be a...a bird," he whispered as an unconvincing reassurance. "That dog'll bark at anything."

"Or something bigger," Sara whispered back, wide eyed. "Do you have your gun?"

"Always with me, ever since all this started." He reached into the bedside table and pulled out his PD standard issue 9mm. Just to be sure he checked the magazine, reloaded, and clicked the safety off. "Stay here," He said to Sara very seriously.

"I'm not going anywhere," she replied as the dog jumped up for refuge on the bed with her.

Grissom fully opened the bedroom door. Covering himself down the hallway, he made it into the kitchen, where the back sliding glass door was. Sure enough, a person-sized dark figure loomed, trying to unlock the door.

Gil reached over slowly and flipped on the back and kitchen lights. The boy slowly raised his head and for the first time, Gil looked into the eyes of the killer who had been stalking Jessica for months.

He was no more that nineteen or twenty at most. Skinny and with a shaved head, the boy was swimming in his dark black sweat shirt during the cold night. As Gil took a step, gun drawn in front of him, the wide-eyed teen dropped the crowbar he was using and took off across the yard. Before Grissom could unlock and open the door, the boy had already hopped across the neighbor's fence and taken off.

Disappointed, Grissom secured his weapon. He bent down to examine the crowbar left behind.

* * *

Sara couldn't hear anything from the bedroom and a long time had passed since Gil left. _Maybe nothing happened. But if it was just a bird, he'd be back by now…_ She crawled out of bed and donned a robe. Sara moved noiselessly down the hallway toward the kitchen. She stopped and peeked her head in the door way to make sure everything was safe. 

Typical of the investigator, Grissom had his kit open, gloves on and was dusting the bar for prints. She never told him, and never will, that he was so cute while he worked.

"So it was him," Sara said with an air of finality stepping into the soft light of the kitchen. Grissom looked up at her and nodded sadly. He bent back down to his dusting.

She moved from the doorway to be next to him and examine the metal bar. With one hand on his shoulder she softly asked: "Did you get any prints?"

Grissom peeled the tape lift apart, stuck it to a dusted section of the bar, firmly rubbed, and with a smile, lifted a perfect thumbprint…

* * *

A/N: For me, it's just a tremolo past 16th notes; how on earth would you even count a hemidemisemiquaver?? Anyway, it was a word of the day once and I loved it enough to put it in the story. 


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